


Rectrix

by sawbones



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Caning (mentioned), Fingering, M/M, More Feelings Than Anyone Really Anticpated, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: Bull and Zevran met long before the Inquisition.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ...I think they'd be good for each other. Eventually.

## rec·trix

 (rĕk′trĭks)

  
_n._ _pl._ **rec·tri·ces** (rĕk′trĭ-sēz′, rĕk-trī′sēz)

  
One of the stiff main feathers of a bird's tail, used to stabilize the bird while in flight and to control its direction.

 

\------

 

The Inquisitor gave Iron Bull a loaded look over the top of their tankard, gesturing to the tattooed elf sitting at their table, “Another friend of yours?”

“The Crows and the Ben-Hassrath have had many mutual interests in the past,” Zevran said in what the Inquisitor was soon to learn was his usual irritatingly indirect manner.

“This Ben-Hassrath agent and this Crow in particular,” Bull added with a guffaw, slapping Zevran on the back, “The Chargers have had a few jobs here and there in Antiva over the years; once in a blue moon someone comes along who prefers something a little more ‘screw you’ than a dagger in the dark. The direct approach, eh?”

“Direct?” Zevran scoffed, “Indelicate.”

Bull rolled his eye at the elf and smirked, “When have either of us ever been _delicate_.”

 

\------

 

Zevran might have thought he was being subtle as he flexed against the ropes binding his wrists, but there was very little Bull missed – testing for slack, he noted, and hoping very much to not find any. Of course they were tied to perfection, just like they had been the last four times and just the way Zevran liked them; tight enough to pinch, to rub raw, to leave his finger-tips tingling. He couldn’t get out of it if he tried, and the idea seemed to comfort him.

  
“You good to keep going?” Bull asked, brushing the tip of the long black feather against the curve of Zevran’s hipbone. He knew they had went pretty hard with the cane and the elf had a bad habit of pushing himself too far and smiling all the way; a form of flagellation, or something like it. There were tears on Zevran’s cheeks, glinting dully in the candlelight, clumping his lashes together. He nodded, lifting his hips a little in invitation with a tired smile. He would have nodded anyway even if he wasn’t, but Bull trusted him on it this time, “Course you are. You’re just getting started, aren’t you.”

  
Bull trailed the feather from Zevran’s hip up his side at an agonisingly slow pace, and admired the way the elf’s stomach muscles twitched and fluttered at the sensation. He half-groaned half-laughed as it circled one peaked nipple and then the other, his brow contracted in what could have been pain if Bull didn’t know better. That’s what he really liked about Zevran (well, aside from the flexibility and _that thing_ he could do with his tongue): the Crows were trained from a young age in pain management, a sort of mental exercise that in some way allowed them to block out sensations that could jeopardise their missions. Zevran was particularly good at it, but when he peeled that armor off, when he felt safe enough to just let himself _feel_ —shit, he was so sensitive and it was fucking beautiful.

  
Zevran squirmed as the feather drew a line down his solar plexus, kissing the angry red welts from their cane work earlier. He groaned again, louder this time as it came dangerously close to his hard cock that was just as well bound as his wrists, before Bull pulled away. Instead he brought it to his exposed underarm, swirling the tip in teasing circles there under Zevran was jerking against his restraints, his eyes screwed shut and his face red.

  
“Too much,” Zevran hissed, trying to lower his arm to instinctively protect himself but the ropes stopped him. Bull simply moved to the other armpit, because ‘too much’ wasn’t anything like their watch word. That was the whole point of this: conflicting sensations, over-stimulation, a lack of control. Zevran wanted some of it, needed the rest, and Bull was happy to provide.

  
If he wanted Zev for the Chargers, well, he didn’t say so. Not out loud anyway.

  
The hair at Zevran’s temples was dark with sweat and tears, and Bull didn’t miss the way his eyes shone wetly as he took his aching cock in hand. The elf nodded, his lips forming the word ‘please’ but no sound followed. Bull trailed the feather down his side (ticklish), up over the caned stripes (painful), across his nipples (pleasurable) as he traced the cord elaborately knotted around his cock with his fingers.

  
“You want it?” Bull asked, because teasing could only last so long and so could Zevran. The elf raised his hips again, pushing his cock against Bull’s hand and making him laugh, “Impatient. You’ve been doing so well until now. Think you deserve it?”  
Zevran stared at him, expression unreadable. Bull thought he was going to shake his head but he didn’t; he scrunched his nose, exhaled sharply in what was nearly a laugh. He wet his lips and nodded again. He gave the feather a parting kiss as Bull passed it over his lips one last time before sitting it aside and picking up a small bottle of oil instead.

  
Bull’s cock was hard, visibly straining against the front of his breeches, but he ignored it in favour of slicking up a few thick fingers instead. The animal part of him was pulling at the leash to grab Zevran, flip him over, work him open so he could fuck him through the mattress—but that wasn’t what that evening was about. Fucking was its own event, its own dynamic, its own set of rules; this was for Zevran, although Bull wasn’t ashamed to admit he like it too. Liked it a lot.

  
He reached between Zevran’s legs and they parted easily for him. The angle was a little awkward since his ankles were bound too, but they managed. Bull traced one finger along the elf’s cleft before he pressed down, teasing his entrance with a single slick finger. Zevran’s expression was eager but guarded, same as it always was at that moment, like he was afraid some secret would fall out of him as soon as he was breached. Bull didn’t take it personally. He was in Antiva to get information, and Zevran knew it. Neither of them was foolish enough to think for a second that would happen there in the cramped anonymous tavern room they’d been meeting in, but habit was a hard thing to break.

  
Bull pushed a single finger into Zevran and watched the way the muscles in his jaw twitched minutely. He fucked him with it slowly, like he needed to be careful, like he couldn’t have started straight off with two if he really wanted to. Maybe he didn’t need to be that careful, but he wanted to be. Most people didn’t want that from Bull; they wanted the beast, the hulk, the Qunari brute – but Zevran wasn’t most people, and he wasn’t sure many people had ever been careful with him before.

  
Bull changed the angle, and Zevran’s hips arched off the bed. He liked this part of him, that soft furnace, hot velvet, feeling his pulse from the inside. He liked that part of every body he’d taken to bed, but there was something different about the Antivan. Something hotter, brighter. Something he didn’t want to think about too closely because he would be leaving in a few weeks and that would never be enough time to know it. He could do this every night for a hundred years and never know Zevran any better. There was no key for that lock; there was no lock at all. The Crows had built him that way.

  
He wondered if Zevran thought the same about him and the Qun. Pushed that thought aside as he pushed a second finger into him, and carefully wrapped his other had around his bound, sensitive cock. He squeezed lightly, keeping time with the thrust of his fingers, and Zevran couldn’t keep still. He tried to bear down on Bull’s fingers, clenching around him, already wanting more even though he knew it wouldn’t hurry him along any faster. He could do this for hours, bringing him to the edge and keeping him there, dancing on the line of pleasure and too much until he begged, or came as close to begging as a Crow ever did.

  
"Bull," Zevran said, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly, and there it was. Bull loved the way his lips moved around his name, loved the way his accent pulled vowels into something soft and melty. His eyes were the same. Bull wanted to kiss him, "Enough. Just-- do it. Do it."

  
Bull smiled, a slant of his lips and turned of his hand. He stopped messing around and let him have what he needed, fucking him properly with his fingers right up to the knuckles, forcing breathless little moans out of him with every hard thrust until finally - finally! - Zevran spilled over his fist. Bull caught the cum in his palm before any could get in the welts on his stomach, and wiped it on the threadbare sheets. He gave Zevran a minute to collect himself while he groped on the floor for one of the Crow's many knives.

  
It was the moment when they were both at their most delicate, that blip in time when the walls were at their weakest, if only by the smallest fraction. It was good to pretend to be busy for a sec, just until Zevran didn't have that wrecked look on his face. He turned back to him, knife poised to cut the ropes binding his wrists.

  
"Wait," Zevran said. He wet his lips but didn't look away, "Just a moment, if you please. Just a moment longer."

  
Bull paused, nodded once. He got it. He knew what it was like when your nerves were shredded and everything hurt, and it felt so damn good just to stay in that little bubble of warmth for just five minutes more. To pretend that this is what they were, and this is what there was: four walls and the smell of sex in the air, a little ropeburn and some healing salve.

  
He sat the dagger on the bedside table, and after a moment, lay down in what little space there was left on the bed. Yeah, he got it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find more rarepairs at [the-brooding-rose](the-brooding-rose.tumblr.com).


End file.
